Black Butler: Asylum
by BlueRaven666
Summary: Set in a mental hospital, Ciel Phantomhive is the newest nurse on-staff. With nurse, Grell Sutcliff, mentoring him, Ciel is faced with the challenge of studying and possibly curing his assigned patient, Patient 666: Sebastian Michaelis, who suffers from the condtion "Soul Insanity" But when a bond forms, can Ciel keep his real reason for being there a secret? PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1:The First Day

**Chapter 1: The First Day**

"You must be Ciel."

I'll admit, when I first walked in here I didn't think I'd be greeted by _him_; at least, not as he looked now. A nurse's cap sat atop Grell's head and he was clothed in a white, collared, button-up shirt and a skirt. They were the last things on my mind. I'd been fitted with an identical nurse's cap and collared button-up shirt, but I'd exchanged the skirt for a pair of white knee-length shorts. I completely ignored the fact that he was wearing a pair of white heeled shoes. If he wanted to pass for a woman, who was I to stop him. There was only one thing I was concerned about at the moment; my assignment.

I was the newest nurse on-staff. Never mind my small size, asthma issues, and the fact I'm only fifteen years old; I needed to do something with my life, and when a position opened here at the London Mental Hospital for the Insane and Supernatural, I couldn't pass it up. I was told shortly after receiving my full uniform that I was going to be assigned a patient to study and attempt to cure them. Who am I kidding? Heck, I can't even cure myself whenever I catch a cold! How was I ever going to be able to cure a supernatural patient of an asylum of a mental illness?

Either way, there was no going back, now, and I was ready to go through whatever Hell this job was going to take me through. I'd been bracing myself day and night for a while for whatever was about to be thrown at me. An angel suffering from an extreme case of schizophrenia? A Grim Reaper with Agoraphobia? A demon with an extreme case of Intermittent Explosive Disorder? The possibilities were infinite!

The day started out relatively simple. Grell showed me around the first floor; the break room and restrooms to name a few less important places. A nurse with short, platinum blond hair and bright blue eyes was talking with a doctor with long, shaggy grey hair and overgrown fingernails, and a psychiatrist with short, dark brown hair sat alone at a table, reading over his clipboard and was sipping a cup of hot tea. I was introduced to all of them; Nurse Alois Trancy, Dr. Undertaker, and Dr. William T. Spears.

I was led into an elevator that took me to the floor my assigned patient was on. As of now, I didn't know much about him; if it was even a "him". All I knew was the number; Patient 666.

The elevator travelled all the way up to the sixth floor—the top floor—of the building. When the doors opened up, we were greeted by another set of doors. These were cage-like, painted white, and very heavily locked. In the world beyond that door sat the world of the insane. From where I was standing from inside the elevator, the patients that I could see looked as though they ran the place; crowding the hallways and going in and out of rooms. Some huddled in groups and were whispering inaudible gibberish to each other, others stalked up and down the hallways as they scratched their heads and observed each other like another living being like them was a freak of nature. It was fascinating.

Grell unlocked the door and we entered into their territory. I jumped as the doors slammed shut with a loud **_bang!_** Getting out of this place now took the key Grell held firmly in his hand.

"Don't worry about _these_ patients," he said, "They're not the ones you need to be concerned about."

It wasn't until we were going down a hallway that had three locked doors at the end of it that I became truly concerned. I could hear patients shouting things that couldn't even be described as words. There was no one roaming the hallways, only the vibrations that were caused by the infernal banging sound of patients throwing themselves against the doors.

"I would advise you to stay on the center line," Grell continued, "Some of these patients can get a little violent, even with their cell doors closed."

I noticed a red line that went straight through the middle of the hall. It made sense. All I had to do was walk on the red line and I was out of arm's reach of the patients.

Each door had a small window to look inside, and so whoever was inside could look out. As we passed a cell labeled 661, a loud bang was heard as something collided with the inside of the door. A woman with lavender hair and dark skin attempted to throw herself out of her cell; snarling and gnashing her teeth, like some rapid animal. Thank goodness she was in a straightjacket, or she probably would have torn the door off its hinges.

Grell casually walked over to the cell; unfazed by Patient 661's erratic behavior. He slid open a small door that was attached to the center of it and peered in at the crazed woman.

"Sorry, Hannah. I haven't come to let you out yet."

The patient, Hannah, let out an enraged shriek and proceeded banging on the door as Grell walked away.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked.

"She's been diagnosed with rabies-level aggression and Soul Separation."

"What's Soul Separation?"

"It happens when a supernatural being—a demon, in Hannah's case—is forced to consume a soul they've become emotionally attached to. It makes them defiant and depressed, but the aggression takes that to all kinds of levels," Grell looked back at me as I trailed behind him, "I should warn you that these patients _have_ torn through straightjackets before."

I hoped and prayed that my assigned patient wouldn't be anything like that. The last thing I wanted to deal with was a crazy trying to bash me into a wall. I couldn't care less if they were drugged half of the time to the point where I couldn't interact with them; so long as they didn't get out of hand, the other doctors and nurses could do what they damn well pleased with them.

"As you know by now, you will be studying Patient 666," Grell said, stopping beside a door and taking the clipboard that was beside it, "You'll assist me with him today, but after that," he passed the clipboard to me, "You're on your own. Got it?"

I nodded and looked at the information on the clipboard.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Patient #666: <em>**_Sebastian Michaelis_

_Type: Demon_

_Gender: Male_

_Height: 6'1"_

_Weight: 175lbs_

_Diagnosis: Stage 4 Soul Insanity (Suffering Soul Syndrome)_

_Status: Under Close Observation/ Receiving Treatment_

* * *

><p>Even I knew a thing or two about Suffering Soul Syndrome. If he was in Stage 5, he'd be considered an incurable case. It was no wonder the mental hospital was looking for help so desperately; though I <em>did<em> wonder why a different nurse, one with more experience, hadn't been chosen for this job. With Patient 666 in already in Stage 4 of this mental illness, this was definitely going to be a challenge for me.

Grell took the key to the cell and unlocked it. The metal door clattered open and we stepped in.

"Good morning, Sebastian," Grell greeted in a cheery tone, "I have someone with me that I'd like you to meet."


	2. Chapter 2: Patient 666

**Chapter 2: Patient 666**

A shape sat huddled in a corner facing away from us. His jet black hair was ragged, his head was tucked down between his shoulders, and the straightjacket that was restraining him made him look completely defenseless. Of course I kept in mind what Grell had said. These patients _have_ torn through straightjackets before. Patient 666 could just be pretending to be poor and defenseless; waiting for the perfect time to lash out. With that being said, I decided that it was safer to stay closer to the door, just in case.

Grell, on the other hand, wasn't at all shy about getting up close and personal with him.

"I hope you slept well, because you're in for a busy day," he rested a hand on Patient 666's shoulder, "Come on, I want you to meet your new nurse. Ciel, come over here!"

_Damn and blast! A thousand times damn and blast!_

Shoving my reluctance aside, I slowly approached my patient. He, however, hardly reacted to what Grell had said, aside from jumping slightly when he'd rested his hand on his shoulder. It was obvious that he was comfortable around this particular patient, unlike me, as I was dreading every step that brought me closer to him.

"Hello . . ." I said timidly, "It's nice to meet you."

At that moment, I felt like a complete moron. What did I think this patient was; a helpless child who couldn't speak English? In all honesty, I felt as though I was being far too kind and coddling him; Stage 4 Soul Insanity, or no.

Patient 666 eventually shifted and struggled to turn his head. I caught a glimpse of a muzzle that was strapped to his face. His skin was incredibly pale and his blood red eyes locked onto mine. They narrowed in suspicion as he looked me over before his head instantly turned back to facing the wall and lowered back down between his shoulders.

"Come now," Grell said encouragingly, "Don't be like this. We've got a lot to get done today. Dr. Spears is already waiting for you."

Showing more reluctance than I had already, Patient 666 merely laid back against the floor and let his eyes settle on the ceiling.

"Defiance at its finest," Grell sighed as he shook his head, "Listen here, mister. You're not going to like it if I have to get the doctor in here to _make you_ go to William. Now, get up and make this easier on all of us."

Patient 666 didn't seem to be remotely intimidated by Grell's threat. He looked like he could have taken a nap where he laid, but I knew there was no time for that.

"I've got a better idea." I offered.

I walked over to the wall where Patient 666's legs were still bent, with his feet still pressed firmly into the corner. I grabbed him by the ankles and forcefully turned him around. Despite the face he was probably a whole foot-and-a-half taller than me and as heavy as a potato sack full of rocks, I managed to drag him out into the middle of the cell. At that point, he sat up; anchoring himself to the floor. He glared at me.

I dropped his legs and glared back at him, "If you don't like it, then _stand up_ and _walk_ out the door, or I'll _drag you_ to Dr. Spears' office."

If looks could kill, I would have been obliterated by the hate that showed through those burning, red eyes, but I'd learned earlier on that I had to make it clear that I was in control, otherwise the patients would walk all over me. As a boy of smaller size and less strength, I'd spent my whole life being walked all over by people. There was no way I was going to allow myself to be pushed around by a patient of a mental hospital.

Patient 666 let out a heavy sigh before he started to stand up . . . or _tried to_, rather. In light of that fact, it might have been easier for him to stand up if he were able to use his arms. Grell helped him to his feet, but was instantly shrugged off. I was instantly able to see the symptoms of Soul Insanity show through him. Patient 666 didn't express his distaste or disinterest through words or sounds, but through his actions. Lying back on the floor when he didn't want to get up, shrugging off Grell when he'd tried to help him up, glaring at me for taking control; all of which he could have said something to more clearly express what he did or did not want to do, but he didn't. But at least he was doing something. Had he been in Stage 5 of his illness, he wouldn't have said nor done anything, and I don't think I would have been hired here at all.

The symptoms of Soul Insanity went farther than just the patient going mute. It was normally caused by something traumatic that happened to them that progressed into severe forms of depression, anger, and anxiety. That led to more dangerous behaviors such as self-harm, harm unto others, refusal to eat or sleep, and in the most severe cases it could even drive them to commit suicide. Knowing that, it was no wonder they had Patient 666 in a straightjacket and under constant observation.

Grell led the way out of the cell, and I was once again trailing behind; walking behind my patient as we made our way to the psychiatrist's office.

* * *

><p>I could already tell that William was having a rough day when I saw him. As Patient 666 laid back on a black sofa across from him, William was massaging his temples as he read over a number of papers that were in front of him. From what I could see from where I stood, the word "impure" was written numerous times in a variety of fashion. Upper case, lower case, a little bit of both, cursive, chicken-scratch, backwards, upside down; there were dozens of combinations in which this one word had been written in.<p>

"Aw, did Ashe give you a hard time?" Grell asked sheepishly.

William let out a frustrated groan, "You have no idea. Alright . . . Sebastian," his attention moved to my patient, "You have to cooperate with me today."

Grell removed Sebastian's muzzle and set it on a nearby counter.

I knew demons were well-known for their good looks, but what had been hidden behind that ugly muzzle was nothing short of godlike. I'll say it; he had a very attractive face. A god's visage was hardly competition.

"Let's start from the very beginning," William pulled out a file from a filing cabinet and attached the papers that were inside of it to his clipboard, "Sebastian, two years ago you came here while you were still in Stage 1 of Suffering Soul Syndrome. This mental illness does not stem from nothing; _something_ has to **_cause_** it. In your case, what that something is has yet to be determined. You _need _to tell me what happened that made you like this."

Sebastian didn't say anything, but I saw the look on his face and I knew there was something bothering him; something he didn't want to tell anyone.

William folded his hands, "Was it something that hurt you in anyway? Was it a person? Did someone you care about get hurt? I'm not going to be able to do anything for you if you won't tell me. You haven't said a word for a whole year, now. It'd be nice if we could start talking your problems out again."

Sebastian shook his head, almost as if to say, "No, I don't want to." He pulled his legs up onto the couch and rested his head on his knees; putting himself into the position he was in back in his cell.

"Why don't you let Ciel try to coax something out of him?" Grell suggested, "We all know the patients don't seem to like you very much.

William tore his spectacles off of his face, "Fine. He's all yours, Phantomhive."

I didn't have the slightest clue as to what I was supposed to say or do to get a demon to talk, but I couldn't just say "No, thank you" and walk away. I came here to help a patient, and I'll be damned if I quit now.

I pulled up a chair and sat beside Sebastian.

"Try talking to me," I said, "I can see that something's bothering you and I can see that you just want to be out of this place, but only you know why you're like this. We can help you, but we don't know what we're supposed to do to help you because you won't tell us what's wrong. What happened, Sebastian?"

Slowly, Sebastian lifted his head and looked at me. It was the saddest, most pitiable look I'd ever been given by another person. He looked me over and shook his head more frantically than he had before. He pressed himself against the back of the sofa and curled up once more.

"Do _I_ remind you of someone; someone who made you like this?"

No response. He only curled up more and began to shake.

"Don't push it too much," William warned me, "He's pissed himself because I asked too many questions."

"I don't know what else to say." I said.

"I think that's enough for today. I'm going to go over his notes a bit and try to sort things out."

I nodded and watched as Grell put the muzzle back over Sebastian's mouth and got him back onto his feet.

As we were walking back towards Cell 666, Grell leaned over to me, "Don't let Sebastian know why you're really here."

"Why?" I asked.

"Sebastian doesn't trust the staff. If he sees you with so much as a clipboard, he won't trust you to be anywhere near him."

"Why?"

"Nurse Trancy and Dr. Undertaker have stabbed him with too many hypodermic needles. If he sees you as just a friend, he might just open up to you."

"And . . . if he doesn't?

Grell let out a sight, "Then he might as well be in Stage 5 already."


	3. Chapter 3: The Doctor

**Chapter 3: The Doctor**

They say the first day of work is always the hardest, and that after that things would progressively get easier. I'm not so sure about the second half of that statement, but so far I can easily verify that my first day of work was anything but a piece of cake.

After leaving William's office, Sebastian was required to take anti-depressants to help ease his depression; likely one of the main causes of his Soul Insanity. Of course, with Sebastian as defiant as he was, he didn't want to swallow the pills. Grell and I had to pin him down and pry his jaws open just to get them in his mouth. Grell got bit a couple of times. Then, there was the tedious task of getting him to swallow them. Grell started off being gentle; holding his mouth closed and occasionally stroking his throat until he got the demon to swallow. When this didn't work, Grell became impatient and it got to the point where he there was a combination of him strangling Sebastian and punching him in the throat to force him to swallow. Finally, after nearly choking to death on the pills, Sebastian swallowed them down.

"Couldn't have there been a less violent way to do this?" I inquired.

Grell let out a frustrated sigh as he let go of Sebastian and watched him scramble back into his favorite corner of his cell; that glare plastered on his face.

"If he would have just cooperated with us, the most strenuous thing we would have had to do was get him to take the pills with water."

The madness of the day didn't end there. As it turned out, what Grell had said about patients tearing through their straightjackets was true, only in Sebastian's case he had _escaped_ from his straightjacket completely! Grell and I found him in a random hallway. How he got out of the straightjacket and his cell was beyond me. However, the escape created quite a panic and ended with Sebastian having to be tranquilized. It wasn't pretty.

Dr. Undertaker, the doctor that had sedated him, could have qualified to be a patient here. He was a lunatic, but whatever sanity he must have had was enough to keep order around here.

He pulled me into his office after the incident and flashed me a wide grin.

"So, _you're_ the nurse that will be looking after Patient 666."

"I am."

"What do you think of him so far?"

What did I think of him? I thought he was ill and needed help. He was sadistic and knew how to piss people off. I didn't want to work with him, but I knew I really didn't have a choice, at this point.

"He's interesting," I told him, "I can tell there's something that's troubling him; something he doesn't want to tell us."

"Tell me something I don't know. But I do know more than that sourpuss William. I was 666's psychiatrist before William started working here. When we met, I recorded out visits, back when he was still talking."

Undertaker set tree tapes in front of me.

"Listen to them. Study them. Remember them. You're a smart kid, Ciel. I think you're capable of curing Patient 666, and these are bound to help you out a lot."

"Does William know about these?" I asked.

"He does, but he refuses to listen to them. He thinks since these tapes have already been studied by me a thousand times, there's nothing we can use from them to help him. But I believe your wits will be able to sort out this information and help us find the answers we need."

"You sound pretty desperate," I stated, "It's like this is a matter of life and death."

A serious look settled on Undertaker's face, "Technically, it is."

"What?"

"Patient 666's time clock has started ticking. From the rate his illness is progressing, he doesn't have a lot of time before he falls into Stage 5 of his Suffering Soul Syndrome."

I became concerned, "How much time are we looking at?"

Undertaker looked over a bit of paperwork on his clipboard, "At best, we're looking at three weeks before he possibly shows symptoms. That means you only have three weeks to try to improve his condition."

That was a lot of pressure to place on the newest nurse in the loony bin, but typical for something as serious as what Sebastian had. Three weeks. Three weeks wasn't a lot of time.

* * *

><p>I took the tapes down to the break room with a device that could play them. I was alone. Grell had left to assist Alois; who, if I had to guess, was having troubles with his own patient. Now was a good time to start listening to these tapes and learning all I could in the time that I had.<p>

I put the first tape in an pressed play.

**_"Hello, hello, hello?"_** Undertaker's voice said, then it trailed off as it spoke to someone else, **_"Go ahead and say your name, there."_**

There was a moment of silence before I heard a second person say in a voice that was almost too quiet to hear., **_"Sebastian Michaelis."_**

**_"Okay, Sebastian. Why don't we start by talking about why you're here?"_**

**_ "I-I don't know."_**

**_ "You don't know why you're here?"_**

**_ "No."_**

**_ "Well, from what I gather, you're suffering from Stage 1 of Suffering Soul Syndrome. Now, it's not severe, as of yet, but it has to be pretty bad if you've been forced to come here."_**

**_ "I guess you're right about that. This . . . Suffering Soul Syndrome . . . can it be cured?"_**

**_ "It can, but we have to find out what's causing it. Now, normally this sort of mental illness is cause by some sort of traumatic event; whether it be physical, mental, or emotional. Can you tell me what happened to make you be like this?"_**

Silence.

After a while, Sebastian spoke, **_"I . . . I . . . I don't know. I can't remember."_**

**_"Well,"_** Undertaker sighed, "**_What do you remember?"_**

**_"Yesterday. I remember going to sleep yesterday and that I was upset, but I can't remember what about. I remember crying and trying to cut open my arms with a kitchen knife. I remember getting angry and hitting my head against a wall . . . over and over again."_**

**_ "But you don't remember what caused you to get like that?"_**

**_ " . . . A-All I do remember is being told by someone that I had done something wrong . . . That what had happened was all my fault. I don't remember who said it or what happened, though."_**

**_ "Do you remember feeling paranoid at all after that happened?"_**

**_ "N-No . . . I tried to shake it off, like it was just a joke, or something. And then I got really upset. I went to be, and when I woke up I was brought here."_**

**_ "This might be a bizarre question, but can you describe any dreams that you had that night? Is there anything you can remember from them?"_**

Sebastian shuddered**_, "It's a blur . . . but, I do remember something."_**

**_ "What was it?"_**

**_ "Laughter."_**

**_ "Laughter?"_**

**_ "Laughter . . . dark, evil laughter, and then I started screaming."_**

That part of the tape ended there, and I had goose bumps. Everywhere.


	4. Chapter 4: Tapes and Notes

**Chapter 4: Tapes and Notes**

That whole day, that's all my mind focused on; the tapes. From where that session had cut off, another had started.

**_"_****_Okay, Sebastian," _**Undertaker's voice said, **_"Our recording from last week was cut off right in the middle of our discussion."_**

**_ "_****_. . . Is that a bad thing?" _**Sebastian asked.

**_"_****_No, no, no, I wouldn't worry about it. Why don't we start by talking about this week, and why you are now in a straightjacket?"_**

Sebastian made a noise, at which point I couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying.

**_"_****_Because I'm crazy? Why else would I be in a straightjacket?"_**

**_ "_****_No, I don't think it's that,"_** Undertaker said, **_"Nurse Grell told me that you were found in your cell, trying to hang yourself with a bed sheet. That's serious. Care to explain yourself?"_**

**_"_****_. . . This depression . . . I feel horrible! I don't know. I just feel kind of . . . dead on the inside."_**

**_ "_****_Why is that?"_**

**_ "_****_I. Don't. Know! Can't you get that through your head, Doctor? I don't know! I don't know why I'm here, I don't know what I did, I don't know why I feel the way I do, and I don't know what's causing all of it. But . . . I _****_do_****_ know why I wanted to kill myself."_**

**_ "_****_Why?"_**

**_ "_****_I feel worse, somehow; almost sick. I'm sad, I'm tired, I'm angry and frustrated and scared, and nothing I'm going through here is helping me."_**

Somewhere in the recording, I could hear Undertaker tapping his pencil against a desk, **_"Then that's definitely not good."_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Date: November 26<br>Notes Regarding Patient #666_**

**_ Tape 1_**

__ "He talked about being accused of doing something wrong. Apparently, whoever told him this also said it was all his fault. Patient started showing signs of depression and anxiety. These symptoms seemed to worsen in the interviews to follow, which led him to attempt to take his own life."__

* * *

><p>The tapes that followed were no better.<p>

**_"Sebastian, you're not looking so good,"_** Undertaker said, **_"Care to explain what happened?"_**

**_"It wasn't my fault!"_** Sebastian instantly snapped, **_"It was that stupid spider demon that started it; Patient 013!"_**

**_ "Sebastian, just calm down. This unnecessary stress will only make your illness advance a lot quicker. I hear you're already showing signs of being in Stage 2 of your Soul Insanity."_**

Sebastian's tone instantly changed from being angry to defeated.

**_"Oh . . . so it isn't an illness, after all; it's insanity."_**

**_". . . Try to understand, Sebastian. There are lots of things we call mental illnesses; all of which fall under some form of insanity. I'm not calling you a total lunatic or anything . . ."_**

**_ "Then what am I, if not that?"_**

**_ "We just like to say you're sick, that's all, and you can and will get better."_**

_'And you can and will get better.'_

That was it, right there. Undertaker had made a promise to Sebastian. I inwardly cursed at him. Did he see how bad things were getting for him?

I continued on with the tape, where it began with the next session.

**_"Alright . . ."_** Undertaker sighed heavily, **_"How are you feeling after therapy today, Sebastian?"_**

It took a while for Sebastian to reply, but I thought I heard him say, **_"I feel like I was hit by a train."_**

**_ "Well, that's normal. You'll feel like that for a while right after going through electroshock therapy. We think it'll help with some of the behavior issues we've been facing with you."_**

**_ "Thinking won't help me, Doctor. If you don't know what you're doing, just say it already."_**

Undertaker sighed again, **_"Try to understand, Sebastian, that your mental illness isn't exactly common. We're working with our best knowledge to help you. Now, I'm going to have Nurse Grell put you on a few anti-depressants to see if that will help you at all."_**

* * *

><p><strong>Tape 2<strong>

_"Multiple kinds of treatment—electroshock and medication, to name a few—does not seem to help correct patient's behavior nor control his depression._

_"Patient also talked about Patient 013; a spider demon._

_'Side Note: Doctor said Patient 666 'can and will get better'. Writing this as a possible promise that could have been made to give the patient (false) hope."_

* * *

><p>The third and final tape was only a few minutes long. All that could be heard, at first, was the sound of someone sobbing.<p>

**_"Sebastian . . ."_** Undertaker said quietly, **_"You don't need to cry. I know that round of treatment was rough on you, but all of this is nearly over. We've almost hit a break through!"_**

The sobbing only seemed to grow louder and more pained.

**_"Sebastian . . . talk it out, Sebastian! It'll help. Tell me what's wrong."_**

Suddenly, everything went silent. The sobbing stopped. I checked to make sure the player was still working. Everything was still going. The tape was still playing.

Finally, I heard a faint shudder, **_". . . Doctor?"_**

**_"Yes, Sebastian?"_**

**_ ". . . I-I don't think that I'll ever get better."_**

**_ "Don't lose hope, Sebastian. Things look bad now, but . . . Sebastian? Are you listening to me?"_**

Silence.

**_"Sebastian? Can you hear me?"_**

Silence.

**_"Sebastian . . . ?"_**

Sebastian's final response was small, weak, and almost too quiet to hear.

**_"I . . . I think I should go back to my cell, now, Doctor."_**

* * *

><p><strong>Tape 3<strong>

_"Patient #666's condition clearly takes a turn for the worst."_


	5. Chapter 5: Doing things Differently

**Chapter 5: Doing Things Different**

That night, I couldn't get what I'd heard in those tapes out of my head. I laid in bed thinking about Sebastian, about the notes, and where I was supposed to go from there. Who had Sebastian Michaelis really been before he was forced to come here? I'd have to find the answers to my questions myself. I was on my own. Grell wouldn't be there to show me what to do, and I wouldn't be able to hide behind him if Sebastian, for some reason, decided to lash out.

Of course, I created a mental check-list for myself. The first order of business was getting Sebastian to trust me; which meant I'd be around him without my clipboard, without his medicine in tow, and without wrestling him to the ground to force him to do something. My second order of business was finding out who Patient 013 was and why he or she and Sebastian quarreled. Lastly, I wanted to find out how bad the treatments Sebastian underwent were and what Dr. Undertaker had really done to try to cure his patient.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you've got a handle on this?"<p>

Grell was waiting for me in the break room when I walked into the hospital this morning. My guess was that he wanted to make sure I was ready to take on Sebastian on my own.

"You know, an extra day of training never killed anybody," he said, "If you aren't ready for it, we could . . ."

"No, it's fine," I cut in, "I'm sure I know what I'm supposed to do."

Grell nodded, "Okay, good. Just give me a yell if you need any help."

"Will do."

It might have been a smart idea to accept another day of training, sure, but it wouldn't cure Sebastian any faster. Besides, I already knew what _not_ to do. The tricky part was trying to figure out what I had to do different that hadn't been done already.

The walk to cell 666 was long, even when using the elevators. On the walk there, I passed cells 641 and 642. Patients 641 and 642 were a pair of angels gone mad with a horrible case of Ticky Feathers; a condition found only in angels and demons. It made them mindlessly aggressive. Normally, the only treatment for them would be electroshock therapy and constant sedation, and the odds of them being cured completely were still slim. If they did manage to ever be cured, most patients woke up from therapy with amnesia after twenty-four hours; left without any recollection of who they were or knowing of their past behavior or who they might have hurt in the past.

Patients 641 and 642 threw themselves at their cell doors, shrieking and snarling as I passed. My eyes just focused on the red line cutting through the middle of the hallway.

"Just stay on the red line." I told myself.

Patient 661 threw herself against her cell door, as well, as I passed by. Before walking away, I gave a quick glance to her clipboard.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Patient #661: <em>**_Hannah Anafeloz_

_Type: Demon_

_Gender: Female_

_Height: 5'7"_

_Weight: 150lbs_

_Diagnosis: Rabies-Level Aggression & Stage 5 Soul Separation._

_Status: Incurable Case. Under Close Observation_

* * *

><p>"I am so sorry." I couldn't help but say. It's always a terrible fate for a patient to become an incurable case. It meant that they'd never get out of here and that only motivated me even more to find a way to cure Sebastian.<p>

I hesitated at the door of cell 666. I was unsure of what sort of state I'd find my patient in. I pressed my ear against the door to see if anything I heard would give me at least a vague mental image before I risked looking in through the window. It was dead silent inside the cell. Taking that into consideration, I slowly peered in through the window.

Sebastian was in the exact same corner where he'd been yesterday, curled up against the wall in the same position. I wondered idly if that was how he slept; if he slept that is. I took a little extra time—stalling—to look at the cell itself. It wasn't big; just large enough to fit a bed, a small desk, and a chair. The walls were all blank, white, and smooth. There was a small window that looked into the yard outside. Nothing out of the ordinary in this place.

Straightening myself, I gained enough nerves to unlock the cell door and step inside.

I was instantly put off by a sound; a sound I couldn't have possibly heard from outside of the cell. Crying. It was soft and full of despair, and I found myself both shocked and concerned when I realized the sound was coming from Sebastian.

The noise of the door opening must have caught his attention. Sebastian threw a quick glance over his shoulder, and, upon seeing me, proceeded to wipe his tears away by rubbing his cheeks on his shoulders. Through his muzzle, I could hear him trying to calm himself; taking deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth. I quickly jotted a note on my clipboard before leaving it outside of the cell.

_"Patient 666 found in distress the morning of November 27. Was crying for unknown reasons."_

From personal experience, I knew asking, "Are you all right?" would be pointless. For one, he wouldn't answer me. For two, it could only push even more on his distress. And lastly, the man was _crying_; obviously he's not okay.

I waited until he'd recomposed himself, which actually took less time than I'd expected. I theorized that this must have been a common occurrence for him; melting down and then having to quickly pull himself together. Within only a few minutes, he'd stopped crying and just sat there quietly. Now would have been a good time to put him on his anti-depressants, but there was no way that I'd be able to manage to do it in the way Grell and I had yesterday, nor did it want to put Sebastian or myself through that stress again.

I quietly strode over to him and removed his muzzle. I had no clue why he even had it on at all. He wasn't like Patients 641 and 642 with Ticky Feathers, and he wasn't like Patient 661 with Soul Separation. All I did know was that it wouldn't be any easier to get him to comply if he was so restrained. After escaping from his straightjacket yesterday, leather straps and buckles had been added to it to make it much, much harder for him to weasel his way out again.

It was then that the thought hit me: How often did Patient 666 leave his cell? Sitting in one of these cells twenty-four-seven would be enough to drive anyone mad, and getting out making his weekly appointments with Dr. Spears didn't count. With that in mind, I reasoned that that'd be where I started with my personal attempts to cure him.

"Why don't you come with me to the breakfast room?" I said. I knew where the patients were brought to have breakfast in the morning, but demons hardly ate, so they were allowed to stretch their legs and walk around, so long as they didn't attack any other patients, doctors, or nurses in the meantime.

The only response I received was a questioning glance, as if he didn't believe I was letting him out without trying to cram a pill down his throat first. I didn't wait for him to get up before I started walking out of the cell. I had no need to worry. Any door that could take him to another cell of out of this hallway was locked, and I had the key, not to mention the fact he _was _still in a straightjacket. He wouldn't be able to go far, nor would he be able to do much.

I had only walked a few paces out of the cell before I glanced back and saw him peering out of the doorway. He looked as if he doubted me; like I was going to lead him somewhere _other than_ the breakfast room.

"Well, come on!" I urged, "Just trust me."

After taking a few steps forward I was aware of a second set of footsteps following me from behind. Progress.

Sebastian stopped following me as he stopped at cell 661. He held an intensely interested look on his face as he peered in through the window. I watched as he lifted his foot and tapped it loudly against the door. _Bang-bang! Bang-bang! Bang-bang!_

Hannah thrust herself against the door and snarled at him, but . . . then she stopped. It was like the rage and irritation her just vanished. While Sebastian's blank and emotionless expressions hadn't changed, Hannah's were now reasonably calm, aside for a slight twitch in either one of her eyes. What just happened?

Sebastian turned away from the cell and continued to follow me to the breakfast room. Hannah watched him leave before vanishing into the depths of her cell, once more. She didn't start up her snarling or shrieking. It was quiet.

Patients 641 and 642—the angels—reacted to Sebastian's knocking just as Hannah had, but they didn't cease their harsh noise-making; throwing themselves against the doors of their cells as they snarled, hissed, and roared. Sebastian wasn't at all intimidated by them; in fact he went so far as to walk up to both cells, turn himself around, and bend over. Yes, Sebastian—in whatever burst of madness he'd had (or perhaps it was completely sane and intentional)—mooned both angels; even going so far as to pass gas as he did so.

Naturally, I couldn't help but recoil in disgust, but Sebastian seemed quite proud of himself as he straightened himself and held his head higher than before.

"Come on," I said, gesturing for him to follow, "I'll let you deal with them another time."


	6. Chapter 6: Cooperation

**Chapter 6: Cooperation**

The breakfast room was very large. I would have been willing to bet fifty patient cells could have fit in the room. There were thirty—give or take—tables where doctors and nurses were sitting with their patients. Up to eight could be seated per table with room still to spare. Many patients had gathered there for breakfast; nowhere near enough to fill up the room, but there were still plenty.

Sebastian seemed to know what to do before I did as he seated himself at an empty table. He must have been an uncommon sight around the asylum, because the heads of every nurse, doctor, and cook that was in the room turned to him. Staff members whispered to each other as their gazes followed him. I seated myself at the table with him and the whispering stopped.

"You must be really well-known around this place, eh, Sebastian?" I spoke.

Sebastian just stared blankly at the shiny metal surface of the table we sat at.

A lady that had her long brown hair pulled up into a bun strode over to us and set down a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of juice beside him. Normally, demons didn't require meals to keep them alive, other than consuming human souls, but Sebastian didn't complain, nor did he reject the meal. How he ate was a feat all on its own. He'd managed to grasp the spoon in between two of his fingers through the sleeves of his straightjacket and he bent himself inward to consume the meal. A straw had been placed in his drink to make consumption easier.

I reached into a pocket in my shorts and pulled out a small, brown, glass bottle that contained his anti-depressants. I removed the cap and dumped three pills out onto the table; his recommended dosage.

Sebastian looked at the pills and then to me.

"You're going to take them," I said sternly, "I'm not going to wrestle you to the ground and cram them down your throat, but you are going to take those pills."

I half expected him to laugh at me, or maybe get up and try to walk away. He looked at the pills for a while longer before he straightened himself and nodded to me.

I shrugged, "Well? Go on then."

Sebastian gave me a frustrated look, before adjusting his arms in the sleeves of his straightjacket, and I slapped myself.

_I am such an idiot!_

I scooped the pills into my hand and walked over beside Sebastian. He leaned back in his chair slightly and held his mouth open. I dropped the pills into his mouth. He grimaced at the taste and quickly downed them with his drink. After the pills had been swallowed, Sebastian shifted back to as he had been; calm and relaxed in the chair as he ate slowly at his oatmeal.

"I can't believe you just did that!" a voice said from behind me.

I turned around and came face to face with Alois; the nurse from the break room yesterday.

"How did you do that?" he asked me, "_Nobody_ has ever been able to get _him_ to take his medicine!"

"It wasn't that difficult," I pointed out, "Obviously, wrestling him to the ground and shoving it down his throat wasn't helping. The way I see it, just treating them like they're an actual person and not a wild animal works best."

"Ha! Tell the other nurses that and they'll just laugh at you."

"Don't you have your own patient to look after, or something?"

"Yeah, he's over there."

Alois pointed to a patient that sat alone on the opposite end of the room. He was a demon with messy jet black hair and golden-yellow eyes. Like Sebastian, he too was in a straightjacket.

"Which one is that?" I asked.

"That's Patient 013," Alois replied, "His name's Claude."

I paused. I was taken aback to the voice recordings. Sebastian had once quarreled with Patient 013. I noticed that, at the mention of the name, Sebastian had lifted his head and was now gazing across the room looking at him while Patient 013 simply stared at the table he was sitting at. It was then that Sebastian rose from his chair and walk out of the room.

* * *

><p>After returning Sebastian to his cell, I grabbed my clipboard and walked to Dr. Spears' office. I made sure to jot down notes regarding his behavior towards Patient 661 and the behavior she displayed in response. I also noted the cooperation he showed when taking his medication in the breakfast room and the tameness he showed without his muzzle on. Whether all of this was related to his illness, or they were just periodic things that happened, I didn't know. All I knew was that it all seemed a little bit better than the behavior Sebastian had displayed yesterday.<p>

William was sitting alone in his office when I walked in, looking equally as frustrated as he looked the day before. He was looking over notes and filing some away while others were put aside.

"Tell me you've at least written down something useful," he grumbled.

"I think so," I replied, "Why? None of the other nurses have given you good observations about their patients?"

William scoffed, "Oh, I've gotten some really good observations from Nurse Trancy, but I'm not interested in hearing about how "graceful" Patient 013 can eat his breakfast, or how "good" he looks at certain points. What is that boy's problem, anyhow?"

I gagged slightly. It sounded like Alois was growing too close to his patient and he been performing intimate acts with him. It was one thing to befriend a patient; it was another thing to form a very intimate relationship with them. Alois could wind up getting fired if he behaved like that.

"I assure you," I said, "Nothing like that is written in my notes, though I do think you might want to take a look at this."

William took the papers from my clipboard and looked them over.

"You reviewed the doctor's voice recordings?"

"I did."

". . . Interesting."

He took a notepad and pen and quickly jotted down another note.

_'Personally review voice recordings between Dr. Undertaker and Patient 666.'_


	7. Chapter 7: Looking For Answers

**Chapter 7: Looking For Answers**

I came to realize there were some things about Sebastian's behavior that was simply normal, in terms of the condition he had. Every morning when I came into work, he'd be crying. When we'd pass Hannah's cell, he'd tap his foot against it to rile her up, only to have her calm down again. Whenever we'd pass the cells of Patients 641 and 642, he'd do something rude or improper to aggravate them. His methods ranged anywhere from just kicking their doors, to mooning, to literally trying to fight them through the doors. These behaviors only lasted about five minutes before we'd continue on to the breakfast room for oatmeal and his medication.

As far as progress went towards curing him, however, I felt as though we've gotten nowhere, and a week has already passed. Today, Sebastian goes back to William's office, but I've been specifically asked not to come, since my presence seemed to disturb him the last time.

I decided that during that time I would explore a bit. Sebastian's cell was where I started, since that was where he's spent most of his time. There had to be an answer of some sort hidden in there.

It took me a while of searching in the more obvious places; under the bed, behind the desk, and other places of that nature. It wasn't until I started digging around in the sheets of the bed that I started finding bits and pieces of this hopelessly scattered puzzle.

The first thing I found was a charm, of sorts, that had been hidden between the frame of the bed and the mattress. It appeared to be the leg of a raven with silver coating the talons. I had no clue as to why it was here or what it was for, but I was able to make out something etched in black writing on the dark grey skin of the leg.

**_'_****_Lord Raum, Earl of Hell.'_**

I had no clue what it was, and against whatever better judgment there was to be had, I pocketed it away for later discussion with the doctors and the therapist.

The second thing I found was hidden underneath the pillow. It was an old photo of a woman with long black hair. She was beautiful and wore a long, flowing black gown. At her side was a child that appeared to be about ten years of age. They were both smiling and appeared to come from a wealthy family, but who were they? Were they his wife and son? A sister and little brother, perhaps?

This too I pocketed away. If Sebastian found out I was the one to take these things, he'd probably hate me, but they could help lead us to the answers to the cause of his illness and bring us closer to curing him. Giving him his life back would probably be worth more than some charm and an old photograph.

After leaving his cell, I took a stroll down the hall way that led to Cell 013. I wondered, what was it about this patient that made Sebastian tick? If they were both incapable of speaking, what had one done to the other to piss them off? What happened here that could have helped to worsen Sebastian's condition?

I stopped at the door and read Patient 013's chart.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Patient #013<em>**_: Claude Faustus_

_ Type: Demon  
><em>

_Gender: Male  
><em>

_Height: 6'3"  
><em>

_Weight: 200lbs_

_ Diagnosis: Stage 4 Soul Insanity (Suffering Soul Syndrome)_

_ Status: Under Close Observation/ Receiving Treatment_

* * *

><p>So Patient 013 had the same exact mental illness as Sebastian? Same stage, too? No wonder they were so aggressive towards each other. Soul Insanity made immortals very solitary. Demons were solitary beings, in general. Putting two together—especially two males—could result in explosive consequences.<p>

I approached the door and looked through the cell's window . . .

_Big. Mistake._

Of all the vile, repulsive, and utterly indecent things I'd seen Sebastian do, they could not compare to what I saw happening in that cell.

Alois was in there with Patient 013. Taking the evidence between Dr. Spears' note and my own guesses, I'd been correct; Alois had been performing intimate acts with his patient. In the cell, Alois was toughing his patient, who stood stiff in a far corner, _everywhere_!

My reflexes took over as I threw open the door.

"_Alois_!"

Alois let out a surprised squeak as he backed away from his patient.

"C-Ciel!" he sounded more frightened than anything. He rushed towards me and sank to his knees, "Please don't tell anyone! My father would be very upset if I lost my job. I'll be in a lot of trouble!"

I don't know how long this might have been going on between Alois and his patient, but something about having a nurse with more work experience than me drop to his knees and beg me to keep a secret appealed to me.

"Fine," I said with a shrug, "I won't tell, but I wouldn't keep at it for much longer, if I were you. What if I had been Grell, or Dr. Spears, or Dr. Undertaker?"

Alois choked down a fearful gulp before nodding and standing up.

"What are you doing down here, anyways?" he asked me, "What about _your_ patient?"

"He's in Dr. Spears' office for his weekly appointment. I decided I'd go hunting for answers to what's causing, or perhaps worsening, his illness. I happened to notice how he'd always look at Claude with extreme distaste."

Alois shut the cell door behind him as he walked out into the hall way with me.

"Well, I could have told you the answer to that. A while back, back where Sebastian and Claude were in Stages 1 and 2 of their illnesses, they'd always argue. They knew each other's weaknesses and they'd use those weaknesses to drive each other mad."

I grew curious, "What are their weaknesses?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you."

"Why?"

"The doctors don't want their weaknesses used against them out of the fear that it could plunge them into Stage 5 of their illnesses; then there'd be no chance at curing them."

It made sense. Better to be safe than sorry, I suppose.

Suddenly, William's voice came over the intercom.

_"Nurse Phantomhive, please report to my office immediately." _

"What did your patient do, now?" Alois asked.

"Don't know," I replied, "I guess I'm about to find out."

* * *

><p>Sebastian was sitting in the same chair as he had been the week before, and he sat in pretty much the same position. His eyes were focused on the floor and he had an utterly guilty look on his face; he was uncomfortable.<p>

I looked to him and then to Dr. Spears.

"What's this about?" I asked, "Has he gotten worse?"

William only shrugged, "Maybe I should let him tell you that, himself."

I looked back at Sebastian and he looked up at me.

"Well? Say something?"

Sebastian opened his mouth and a hissing sound escaped from between his teeth, almost as if he were trying to say something that started with an 's' or a 'c'. He stopped at one point and curled up tighter as he looked away.

"Sebastian," William said slowly, "Tell Ciel exactly what you told me."

I heard him swallow before his mouth opened again and the hissing sound started up.

"C-C-C-Ci-Ciel's . . . doing well."

I was astounded and I looked back at William, "You got him to talk?!"

William shook his head, "No, Phantomhive, _you_ got him to talk. You got him to trust you. You got him to do things other than sit in a lonely cell all day. Don't you realize what this means?"

I knew exactly what it meant.

"It means Sebastian is making visible progress."


	8. Chapter 8: Family Matters

**Chapter 8: Family Matters**

Progress! Progress! At long last, after a week of seeing the same thing from Sebastian and getting nowhere, we were finally making progress! Never mind the fact that he was still in Stage 4 of his mental illness, because now I was able to see a bit of light at the end of this tunnel. It could even be possible that I could get him to go back to being in Stage 3 before long.

There were still obstacles in the way before that happened, though. Sebastian needed to start making coherent sentences, he needed to show that he was capable of functioning in society without being a hazard to himself or others, and . . . and I needed to get him out of that straightjacket.

After meeting with Dr. Spears, I returned Sebastian to his cell and made my way towards Dr. Undertaker's office. I wanted to show him what I had found in Sebastian's cell and I wanted to share the news of my patient's progress.

When I got there, I found the door to his office slightly ajar and another person was already speaking with him. It was William. I suppose he beat me to sharing the news about Sebastian with him. I pressed myself against the wall next to the door and listened to what they were talking about.

"Are you insane?!" I heard William yell, "What were you thinking?"

"At least I was thinking," Undertaker countered, "What have you done to try to help Patient 666 since his care was entrusted to you? What treatments have you been using?"

"You don't understand at all, do you? What you subjected him to is _exactly_ why his illness advanced so quickly!"

"He suffers from Soul Insanity. It's a fast-acting mental illness."

"But the medieval methods you used made things a thousand times worse. Look at him sometime! With Phantomhive helping him, we might actually cure him. Don't you care at all about that?"

"Of course I do! You're really one to talk. You don't even like demons."

"True, but at least I'm doing all I can to help him. What about his sister and little brother? When was the last time you allowed them to see him?"

Undertaker was silent for a moment.

"I couldn't."

"What do you mean you couldn't?" William asked.

"As nobility in Hell, they have very high expectations of him, and it's all about image. If they saw him now, they wouldn't even recognize him. What would Earl Raum think?"

I looked back to the charm I had found in Sebastian's cell. My finger brushed over the words that were etched into it. Earl Raum? Who was he? How was he connected to Sebastian?

"We can't just keep him locked away and wait for a miracle to happen," William concluded, "And shocking him senseless isn't going to solve anything, either. At least it seems as though these new methods are working."

* * *

><p>William came to me later that afternoon with a slip of paper in his hands. This slip of paper held an address and a couple of names.<p>

"Are you sure you're alright with doing this?" he asked me.

"Of course," I replied, "But what exactly did you want me to do?"

"This address will take you to Sebastian's sister, Anaina. I need you to inform her about Sebastian's condition."

"Them why not just call her? Or sent a telegram?"

The look on William's face was one I nearly mistook for sadness, until I realized it was genuine concern.

"Anaina could very well think Sebastian's dead. No word of him and no more allowed visits. She either thinks he's dead or forever retarded."

I took the slip of paper and stuffed it into my pocket, "Then I will go."

"Good, and for crying out loud, Phantomhive, ask questions. See if they know something about what happened before he came here."

* * *

><p>I stood before a grand estate built out of ebony and silver. The gates and fence were silver, the bricks that built up the home were sculpted out of jet black marble; even the blades of grass that made up the lawn looked like tiny slivers of metal against the gothic look to the manor.<p>

It had taken me forty-five minutes by cab just to reach it, and the bustling crowds of London didn't help with the time.

A servant clad in black with dark violet eyes and auburn hair met me at the gate.

"What can I do for you, boy?" he said, rather annoyed, "The countess is a very busy lady!"

I flushed at being referred to as "Boy" by the servant, but I brushed it off, "My name is Ciel Phantomhive. I work at London Mental Hospital for the Insane and Supernatural. I come to talk to Anaina Michaelis about her brother, Sebastian."

A stunned look appeared on the servant's face and the gates were opened, "Right this way, Mr. Phantomhive."

I was led through the mansion at such a fast pace that I couldn't take in its interior. All I could make out was the changing of the wallpaper. Blood red, midnight blue, dull white, and other beautiful colors that changed with every new hallway I went down. Eventually we stopped at a large wooden door that led into the drawing room and walked inside.

A lady in a dark blue gown and adorned in silver jewelry sat in a plush chair as she gazed out a window. Her hair was long and curled, and it was the same shade of black as Sebastian's.

"You're ladyship," the servant said, "There's a young man here with information about your brother, Sebastian."

The lady turned to me and her garnet eyes locked onto mine.

"Leave us." She said in a cold tone.

The servant bowed and left, shutting the door behind him.

It was silent for quite some time before I finally spoke, "Are you Anaina?"

"I am. What is it that you wanted with me?"

I sat myself in a chair across from her.

"I'm a nurse at the hospital where your brother, Sebastian is incarcerated. I came here with news about him."

Anaina scoffed, "I haven't been allowed to see him in over six months. Our father hasn't heard from him since the night before he was incarcerated. They haven't given me any word on his mental condition in a while. What's so important that they've sent their minions to give me word of him now? Has he died, or something?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head, "He's actually made progress. He was in Stage 4 of his illness, but he's showing signs of improvement. He was actually able to give his psychiatrist a coherent response. I heard him say it myself."

Anaina's breathing seemed to pause mid-breath before she let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank Lucifer! Asmodeus will be so glad."

As if on cue, the door to the drawing room opened, and a young teen with jet black hair and amber eyes stepped in. His eyes settled on me and he froze, "Who is this?"

"Come here, Asmodeus," Anaina said, beckoning to him, "Have good news."

"What is it?"

Anaina smiled warmly at him, "Big brother is all right, and he's getting better."

Asmodeus eyes became glassy, "Really?"

Anaina nodded and caught him as the teen threw himself onto her lap and cried out his happiness.


	9. Chapter 9: Reunion

**Chapter 9: Reunion**

"I want to see him!" Anaina demanded, "Let me see him!"

I hesitated. William had told me to inform Sebastian's family on his current condition; let them know how he was still alive and that he was recovering, and everything. I had not, however, been given any instruction to allow Anaina and Asmodeus to see him in the institution. The thought itself was difficult. These people haven't seen Sebastian in a great number of months, because Undertaker had cut them off. His condition most certainly had to have changed since then, and how would Sebastian even react after being cut off from his family for so long?

"I-I don't know if that's such a good idea," I stammered, "He isn't mentally stable, exactly."

"I _know_ that!" Anaina huffed, "That's why I want to go. He needs to see us! He probably thinks we've abandoned him or that we're ashamed of him, and I can't bear the thought of him wasting away in a white room like that. He _needs_ to see us!"  
>Anaina reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a photo. The photo was similar to the one I found in Sebastian's cell, only rather than it being an image of Anaina and Asmodeus, it was a picture of Asmodeus and Sebastian.<p>

"Asmodeus has another photo of Sebastian and I," she said with teary eyes, "It reminds us that there are still people in our lives that love us and that those people should never be forgotten. It's been six months, Ciel. Please . . . let me see my big brother."

* * *

><p>Everything was all set. Grell had moved Sebastian into the breakfast room and he was waiting for me, and I was leading Anaina and Asmodeus to the large room to see him. I couldn't believe Undertaker and William were allowing this, though I knew that William had probably gotten into another argument with him about it, agreeing that this would be good for Sebastian's recovery.<p>

I could see Grell waiting for us in front of the doors to the breakfast room, pacing as he did so. His eyes settled on us and he broke into a friendly smile.

"Anaina Michaelis! It's been such a long time! You're looking well. How are things with the home, with the fam-?"

"No time!" Anaina said sharply, "I've come to see . . ."

"Sebastian, I know. You're certainly more uptight than I remember."

Anaina simply shrugged off the comment and pushed Grell aside as she entered the breakfast room.

It was an instant hunt to find Sebastian. In one room full of suspicious characters wearing nothing but the same white outfit or straightjacket, every single person looks the same. It was an uncomforting thing that the first sign of Sebastian's presence that we found was his straightjacket; casually slung over the back of the metal chair we usually sat at each morning. Grell was about to set off the emergency alarms when I finally spotted my patient standing by a window as he stared out into the yard.

"Sebastian!" I called out, and he turned to me.

The gazes of Anaina and Asmodeus followed mine until they'd locked on his. At that moment, they froze. Their mouths hung open; the joy in them mounting. Sebastian stood there, seemingly shocked at seeing his family again. I simply stood at a table and watched to see what would happen.

Anaina inched towards him in little steps while Asmodeus trailed behind her. Sebastian inched towards his siblings; holding himself as if he were still in the straightjacket. I could tell that, for the moment at least, he'd forgotten that he was still in an insane asylum; surrounded by countless other patients that just drifted by. A smile twitched the corners of his sister's mouth into a timid smile.

"Sebastian?"

Even from where I was standing, I could see Sebastian's mouth move.

"Anaina?"

Anaina let out a small laugh as she cupped cheek in her hand, "Hello, again, my dear brother."

She rushed to him and wrapped him in her arms. I saw him flinch at the movement momentarily before he wrapped his arms around her.

I looked over to Asmodeus, who just seemed to stand there with his mouth agape and shock coating he features. He was clearly not used to seeing his older brother act this way. He began to back away, and I sensed something in him. Resentment. I heard him mutter something that stunned me.

"That's not my brother . . ."

There was nothing Grell, Anaina, or myself could do to stop him. The boy turned on his heel and took off in a sprint out the door.

In instantly ran after him. I heard Anaina shouting his name, demanding that he come back. I understood her desperation, because they were in an insane asylum, and some of these inmates wouldn't hesitate to attack and possibly kill another, younger demon.

* * *

><p>I followed Asmodeus until I lost him when he rounded a corner, and I forced myself to stop and catch my breath; I had to, before my asthma began to act up. I cursed at myself for losing him and my breath and for not being strong enough or fast enough. I nearly screamed with frustration when I looked up and read the number to the nearest cell door.<p>

013

How unlucky could one kid get?

Cautiously, I peered through the cell's window and my heart began to drum against my ribs when I realized that the cell inside was empty. I also remembered that Claude hadn't been in the breakfast room with us. I hoped and prayed that Alois had just drug him to Dr. Spears's office, or that he was receiving treatment in another wing of the building, or that Alois was touching him all over again; anything to avoid thinking that the large male demon could possibly be tracking Asmodeus.

As if answering all of my world's questions, I heard a bout of loud yelling coming from around the corner at the end of the hall. I took off at a sprint once more, desperate to reach him. If Asmodeus was hurt by some deranged inmate—or _worse_—I could never forgive myself. And Sebastian . . . Losing his younger brother could mean the difference between curing him and plunging him into Stage 5 of his Soul Insanity.

My heart began to beat frantically as I observed what was happening.

Claude had Asmodeus pinned against a wall. He clawed at him, slammed him against the wall until his smaller body was leaving impressions on its surface. Asmodeus attempted to kick and squirm his way out of the larger demon's grip. To no avail. He spat and hissed and clawed at Claude's hands, but the spider demon wasn't going to let up so easily. I felt powerless to help. I had no tranquilizers or any of the useful tools I'd seen Grell use on Sebastian a couple of times. How would I ever be able to stand against the strength of a full-grown demon?

Suddenly, something rushed past me, nearly knocking me off of my feet. I didn't see what happened, but ultimately Asmodeus was thrown into me; knocking us both to the floor. Claude appeared to have been pinned down by another demon that I couldn't identify. He was smaller with midnight black hair and pale skin. It wasn't until I saw his face that I saw that the second demon had been Sebastian.

Sebastian roared and spat with fury and with rage. He threw a few effective punches, and blood began to pour out from Claude's nose. They wrestled aggressively for a good ten minutes before Claude finally began to back off; limping and bleeding. Sebastian stood still as he panted heavily before his eyes shifted to Asmodeus.

With a relieved cry, Asmodeus ran to Sebastian and threw his arms around his shoulders. The elder demon wrapped his little brother in his arms and held him close, much like he had done with Anaina.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian!" Asmodeus wept, "I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!"


	10. Author's Note

All fanfics that are in-progress are on hold until further notice due to a gain of sudden

N inspiration to work on my original fiction stories. I will be posting to Wattpad if anyone is interested. Username is KristinaBoyer.


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